


This Place is a Real Hell-hole... Seriously

by little_coffins



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Cults, Demons, F/M, Gen, Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_coffins/pseuds/little_coffins
Summary: Gas Stations being the gate to a eldritch hell dimension? This one is a little new for the Winchester's, and neither are sure what to do with the terminal prophet clerk who's completely unable to sleep. But, in the end they must persevere and make due, lest Michael or Lucifer get a hold of said doorway to unspeakable horrors.Supernatural crossover Tales From The Gas Station.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	This Place is a Real Hell-hole... Seriously

The ride there had been fairly quiet, everyone stewing in their own self pity and and frustration at the situation. Dean's eyes remaining on the road in a sullen silence, Castiel mostly remaining still, peering out the window at the passing farmers fields and thick forests, the passing traffic sparse. Sam had his laptop propped up on his lap, looking into the small town, and found their cover ups to be surprisingly lacking.

Bizarre suicides, disappearances, animal mutilations, an entire death cult found dead in the nude in a forest that reportedly had sprung up entirely over night.

Hikers went missing in far higher numbers then most places, under downright odd circumstances only be rediscovered in the tops of high trees and mutilated to the point of needing to be identified through dental records.

Alien sightings, government conspiracy, the entire spiel was all here on displayed for him to see, and the towns government was seeming incredibly lax on damage control.

The tension was palpable, occasional huffs and sighs escaping the occupants of the vehicle as they neared their destination, a shitty little gas station in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Not unusual for cases, however, unlike many cases they dealt with, this was a lot more involved with them personally.

Sam recalled the events preceeding their newest journey.

\---------

_Briefly, the_ _announcement_ _left the room in stunned silence._

_"Great. Fan-fucking-tastic." Dean_ _bellowed_ _, voice filled with_ _sarcastic_ _false enthusiasm. To his left, Castiel frowned at him._

_"This is not good, Dean." He of course sounded genuinely confused as he addressed the hunter, brows furrowing._

_"Not the time, Cas." Dean's shoulders slumped._

_"Well, if their backup apocalypse plan is to open up some ancient gate and release a bunch of, uh, eldritch monsters on us, we can go find the gate, and..._ _I_ _don't know, secure it? Keep them out and away from it?" Sam spoke up after a moment, sitting backwards on a chair._

_"They won't be able to get in easily as it is," Cas stated fairly ominously, though Sam doubted that was purposeful._

_"What do you mean?" Dean frowned._

_"Well, there is a prophet there, he's the gates_ _current_ _protector." Sam felt a little relief flood through him._

_They could deal_ _with_ _prophets, the have before and this probably wont be the last time. This was a little more high stakes then usual, but that was alright, they could figure out prophets._

_"Okay, so we go to this place and we set up station there, make sure nothing gets in with the prophet." Dean seemed to have the same_ _momentary_ _relief before he paused and spoke before regaining the puzzled lilt to his voice._

_"Why can't they get in? A prophet is all_ _that's_ _keeping them at bay?" Dean asked._

_"They aren't allowed to kill him, he's a unique case even among prophets. Everyone on all sides is prohibited from killing him, likely they'll try to trick him into doing something that'll get him_ _killed_ _on his own so they won't have to claim responsiblity for his death." Cas elaborated, and the two brothers passed glances between one another, unsure_ _whether_ _the be relieved that there was a ban on killing him, or that they would be putting in their efforts in getting to essentially kill himself._

_"Well we can only hope he'll be_ _able_ _to hold out until we get to him." Sam filled the_ _silence_ _._

_"Yeah, hopefully he_ _isn't_ _a dumbass_ _and_ _gets himself killed." Dean piped up._

_"What's his name? What even is the gate disguised as?" Sam promptly ignored_ _Dean's_ _two cents._

_"Jack Townsend, and the doorway is hidden in a Gas Station." Cas replied curtly._

_"It's a Gas Station? Seriously?" Dean snorted, which gained a sharp look from Castiel._

_"Yes Dean, this is very serious." He snipped back, Dean simply grinned back and put his hands up_ _passively_ _._  
_Amidst they're arguing, Sam settled onto the motel bed, digging his laptop out of his bag and began looking into_ _the_ _name._

_"Dean, these are very serious matters--"_

_"Guys, is the guy a writer?" Both Dean and Cas stopped to face Sam and listen, realizing_ _he'd_ _already begun looking into their prophet._

_"Yes, he is." Castiel responded, shuffling towards the youngest Winchester._

_"Are all prophets_ _writers_ _or something?" Dean mused aloud, and Castiel would have responded had Sam not interrupted before he could get the words out._

_"Uh, yeah Gas Station is mentioned... a lot. He writes about it online._ _It's called_ _Tales From The Gas Station. And it looks like there's_ _even_ _book of it available on_ _Amazon_ _." Sam mumbled, scrolling through the various tabs he'd opened._

_"He's airing the gas station hell_ _gate_ _out like that?" Dean's brow rose as he_ _sat_ _down on the twin bed adjacent to Sam. Castiel stood awkwardly between the beds._

_"Maybe he doesn't actually know that the Gas Station is a gate to some monster realm?" Sam voiced, clicking on the first part. Skimming through it, after a few moments, he piped back up._

_"Yeah, it looks from this first bit he doesn't actually know, or if he does he hasn't brought it up, at least in this part." After a second more of browsing, sam closed the laptop gently_ _with_ _both hands and looked back up towards the rooms other two occupants._

_"So, can you zap us there, Cas?" Castiel looked frustrated for the briefest of moments before burying that back and responding._

_"While the location is capable to be seen by any of the higher_ _Angel's_ _,_ _I_ _cannot bring us there so easily, the land is protected and_ _I_ _am prohibited from entering in that manner." Castiel explained and Dean let out an exasperated._

_"So we're driving, basically?" Sam said tiredly._

_"_ _Unfortunately_ _, that seems to be the case." Castiel sounded just as displeased with the situation, and Sam couldn't help but sympathize with the frustrated angel._

_\--------_

"This is it?" Dean asked, sounding incredulous as he pulled the impala into the dull looking parking lot. If it could be considered a parking lot at all, it was a total of two spots in front of a worn down looking Gas Station, the pavement cracked into gaping holes in areas, one little pump beneath a overhang in the middle of the tarmac, the overhang itself slightly slouched and suspiciously claw-like gouges in the along the plaster edges.

They were surrounded by forest, the all encompassing kind, dense and dark, and Sam couldn't help but wonder how anyone at all found this place.

The sun was midway way through setting, turning the sky a rippling pinkish purple, the moon already visible in the sky.

Car doors slamming, the three men made their way towards the Gas Stations door, the lights that lined the walls flickered, whether that be from the bulbs themselves or the sheer amount of moths fluttering around them giving the illusion of flickering, either way it didn't particularly matter in the long run.

Pushing open the glass door, a bell chimes throughout the store, surely to notify any employees there was someone entering. No one seemed to come to check though, nor speak up with a greeting, and looking across the store at the displays all the way over to the frozen drink machine, the brothers didn't spot anyone.

For a moment, they were filled with doubt that this was even the right place. Sure didn't look like a hell dimension gate. Well, not to literal hell, more metaphorical then anything.

"Jack Townsend." Cas stated, turning and stalking towards a counter they hadn't even noticed. The fluorescent lights casting a green light upon a man sitting at the counter near the cash register, the wall behind him coated in missing persons poster, a laptop set on the counter in front of him, typing away on it, having otherwise paid them no mind.

When he looked up to them, they caught just how worse for ware he looked. Deep, dark bags beneath eyes that may be either green or blue, the light made it hard to tell. His skin was sickly pale and he was frighteningly skinny, dark curly hair messy, though surprisingly clean looking considering the dump he was surrounded by. His clothes, a beige shirt with a name tag that red "Jack", a black loose fitting sweater undone on top of it all, once again surprisingly tidy looking.

"Good evening. Can I... help you?" He asked, giving Castiel a slight smile, awkwardly leaning to the side slightly to peer at the brothers.

"My name is Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord and I'm here to--" Dean cut off his spiel with a "wait wait wait," stepping up to the counter, giving his best charming smile.

"Hey kid-- mind if I call you kid?" Dean asked, and Sam rolled his eyes and slumped as the overwhelming feeling that whatever Dean was about to say was going to be no better than Castiels angel-demon spiel.

"Uh... sure?" He said unsurely, closing the laptop and shifting to face them directly, brows raised incredulously.

"Great, so, first off, you look like you need a day off. Like just a day to sleep whatever this--" Dean gestured broadly at Jack's face, "is off, and is there anyone else working right now?" Slamming his head into the greasy brick walls of this shitty little gas station was seeming like a more and more viable option for Sam with each word that came out of Dean's mouth.

"Dean--" Sam exasperatedly scolded, before promptly being cut off by the exhausted looking prophet cashier.

"Look, if you're looking to rob the place, go ahead but there's not a whole lot. This place is kind of a shit hole." Jack sighed, shrugging and turning back to his computer, opening it back up to prepare typing again.

"No, no no no. That's-- that's not what's happening, we-- we read your blog!" Great, now damage control was in Sam's hands, wonderful.

"Oh, well you aren't the first and won't be the last that's wandered out here after reading my blogs, but really you should go before you end up like the others." Jack sighed, sounding every bit as exhausted and annoyed as he looked.

"The others? What happened to the others?" Sam inquired, puzzled.

"They're dead, well officially they're missing, but they're definitely dead." Sam and Dean passed looks between each other.

"... This is going to sound crazy, but we know what's wrong with this place." Sam said carefully after their momentary pause. Thankfully, throughout this small interaction Castiel had remained oddly quiet.

"You aren't the first to say that either." He huffed, going back to typing on his laptop before continuing. "Unless your going to buy something, you need to leave." He wasn't even looking at them anymore, so Castiel took the opportunity to speak up once more, to the Winchester's chagrin.

"This Gas Station is a gateway to a dimension of eldritch beings, which heaven and hell both intend to get their hands on to release and bring about the end of the world." Straight forward as always, he gave a stern look to the young man behind the desk.

"It's sounds insane, we know it does, but it's the truth--" Sam began, voice taking on a near pleading lilt.

"I believe you, it's not unbelievable that this place would lead to some freaky hell dimension or whatever." He shrugged, closing his laptop once again before turning and leaning forward, reaching for something before sliding off the stool onto crutches, hobbling around the counter towards them.

Getting a full look, they noticed his jean leg was knotted at the knee on one leg, revealing the fact that apparantly he was an amputee, the crutches propelling him forward and passed them.

"I'll make you guys coffee, sit down in one of the booths." Bugger was fast on those things, leaving the three confused and rooted in place, watching him setting up the coffee machine to start it up.

Tentatively, they did as instructed.

After a few moments of awkward all encompassing silence, Jack returned with a tray of three cardboard cups, one crutch left abandoned by the machine.

While placing the tray on the table for them, they all noticed simultaneously noticed that he also lacked a finger on one hand. As he pulled a chair from a nearby table to sit by them, settling on the thing backwards, Dean spoke up.

"Damn man, you really pulled the short straw on limbs." He grinned slightly as Sam punched his arm, glaring at him as to tell him to just _shut the fuck up_ already.

"Tell me about it," he groaned, leaning upwards to look outside, Sam followed his gaze and found nothing of interest outside.

"Didn't get yourself any?" Dean asked, gesturing with the coffee in hand towards the machine. Only Cas had taken a sip of the beverage.

"If I drink that stuff I'll give myself a heart arrhythmia." Jack explained with an air a finality, and that, decidedly, cleared up absolutely nothing for the brothers.

"You are a prophet, prophets are predetermined by the Lord and the high angels, and are given that gift to share with other humans. Often, visions occur while dreaming or suddenly while awake. Have you had any bizarre dreams like that as of late?" Castiel asked, laying it on heavy and without regard for the strain such shocking information often had on people. Sam was about to speak, reword it more gently to the young man, but didn't get the chance.

"No, I haven't, sorry. Don't think I'm the prophet you seem to think I am. Any possibility you have the wrong guy?" Jack asked, remaining surprisingly calm despite all this, grabbing his crutch that had been leaning against his thigh a second ago and stood it up in front of himself, leaning his arms on it.

"Absolutely not. The names of each and every prophet is etched in every Angel's brain." He responded, dead serious.

"Huh. That's kinda gross."

"Are you sure you've had no weird dreams? Nothing at all? Even if its nonsensical, it might be useful." Sam prompted gently.

"Guys, the reason I think you have the wrong person is I literally cannot dream. At all. Period." He sighed, swinging the crutch lightly and rhythmically before stopping and leaning on it once more.

"What do you mean you don't dream?" Dean asked incredulously, passing a skeptical look towards Sam.

"I'm in the late stages of Fatal Familial Insomnia, I haven't slept since high school." The apathy as he stated something like that threw the Winchester's off and brought a befuddled look to the Angel's face.

"Fatal famil... what?" Dean repeatedly, his skepticism more and more apparent.

"Fatal familial insomnia." Jack reiterated flatly.

"You can't just... not sleep for that long, you'd be dead, that doesn't even make sense." Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and at the edges of Sam's mind, that name tugged at his brain, sounding oddly familiar, like he'd heard about it before.

"Yep," Jack popped the p, "its terminal and since I'm in the late stages, I'm on borrowed time. Basically I'm gonna drop dead any day now. Passed my expiration date." The reason it sounded so familiar clicked in Sam's brain, and he suddenly perked up as he recalled learning about it in a high school psychology class.

"Oh! I learned about that in one of my high school classes." Sam stated, recalling his high school days, as scattered and abnormal as they were.

"Uhh... okay," Dean drawled, confused, staring between the Angel and his brother.

"So you've got the wrong guy, It's not possible for me to dream, and even if I was having visions or whatever up here," Jack gestures with his pointer at his temple, finger spinning in circles. "Is totally scrambled, I'll be honest I hallucinate a lot, and ninety percent of the time I can't tell what is and isn't real. Last week a guy selling pink six legged cats came in here offer to sell some, and I don't even know if it actually happened. For all I know I hallucinated the whole interaction." Jack explained, hands flapping broadly as he did so.

"Yeah, pal I'm gonna be honest with you, that probably didn't happen." Dean said carefully.

"Well, if it did happen it wouldn't have been the weirdest thing that's happened here. We had half a pig come running in here, bleeding all over the place. It was still alive and everything. Tom, the one of the previous Deputy's checked it out, it's a verified incident and everything." Sam and Dean stared at Jack, disturbed.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but was startled silent as the gas station door slammed open and an inebriated man stumbled his way in. Both brothers pulled their guns and trained them on the swaying figure.

"Heya Jackie boy-- oh! Guns! We're having one of _those_ days!" The man howled, voice slurring, he slammed his fist against his chest several times before letting at a loud, wet burp. The man's glassy eyes went wide and he stumbled towards a yellow mop bucket before promptly puking up his guts.

"Oh mother-- Jerry! Jesus Christ, I've told you not to puke into the mop bucket a million times! This place is disgusting enough as it is! We _have_ a bathroom, use it for God's sake!" Jack snapped out, pinching the bridge of his nose and glaring towards the hunched man.

"Is... he okay?" Sam asked, lowering his gun slightly.

"Mm-yahhh I'm doin' great! Just the ol' tummy gurgles, the ones get after a good meal." He stood up, wiping his mouth off of the sleeve of his bright red robe-- seriously? He's wearing a bathrobe?

"Nobody pukes their guts up after a 'good meal'. And your meals aren't great, they consist of straight booze and the freezer burned packaged foods in the back room, completely unheated." Jack chastised, while Jerry simply seemed to ignore him and swiped an unopened packet of Marlboro brand cigarettes along with a shitty plastic lighter and start smoking in the middle of that gas station.

"Someone's gotta eat that stuff, and I swore to Flabu I'd eat it." Jerry said very sternly, seeming completely serious despite how ridiculous literally everything he just said sounded.

"I think you can put down your weapons, he seems to just be a drunkard." Castiel stated, addressing the brothers.

"Hey!" Jerry sounded scandalized, "don't call me things I don't understand!" Jack stared at the other man as if he'd just stated the sky was green, with utter astonishment, nearing an impressed awe at the sheer ridiculousness of him not knowing a word that perfectly described him.

Jack threw his head back and sighed deeply. The brothers lowered their guns.

"Look, you've got both heaven and hell looking to get you killed for this trashy fucking gas station. We're here to make sure that doesn't happen, because I think we can all agree the world is better pre-apocalypse." Dean placated, tucking his pistol back into its holster.

"Speak for yourself," Jerry groaned from the other side of the gas station, draped across the counter, having pushed displays out of the way haphazardly. He remained largely ignored, aside from odd glances.

"We're doing fine here, we haven't had any casualties on the property for a while, so chances are this place will be fine. I've even a got a replacement trained and ready for when I croak." Jack reminded them, shuffling over to the mop bucket, peering in, face twisting into an expression of disgust.

"Your cleaning this thing up properly when your shift starts, Jer." Jack instructed, and from his limp position, Jerry sent him a thumbs up.

"Can't we at least... stick around? Try to figure out how to get Michael and Lucifer to bugger off?" Sam stepped out of the booth to stand along with his brother and the angel.

With a reserved sigh, Jack hesitantly agreed to them staying, as long as they remained out of the way.

For a moment the group remained in a precarious silence.

A phonecall shattered said delicate silence.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I couldn't find the Tales From the Gas Station fandom tag, lol. Hopefully someone will actually read this, cause I mostly do BSD and this is... well, not BSD. This will be multi-chapter.


End file.
